


You asked me to come: it was raining a little

by chorima



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:24:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chorima/pseuds/chorima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kilian Durin has lived in Brooklyn since he and his brother Philip decided to make a change in their lives and escape from his motherland, Ireland, two years ago. He’s always loved the little café in the corner of the street he lives in, and enjoys spending time drinking his black coffee reading science magazines. But this evening he comes in and a beautiful, shy voice is reading a poem about rain and he feels that rainy is all he wants the weather to be the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You asked me to come: it was raining a little

**Author's Note:**

> Okay sorry in advance for my grammar or if I misspelled something, English is not my first lenguage. Hope you like it!

Kilian’s life had changed drastically in the last two years, when his brother Philip told him to move with him from Ireland to New York. He had hardly thought about it when he accepted to do it. He needed a change in his life. He was bored of working hard giving particular History lessons to high school kids who didn’t appreciate what he was trying to teach them, what he was really passionate about. He was bored of living with his uncle, who kept getting moodier as the days went by. He was tired of the people he knew.  
When he arrived in New York, the first thing he did was looking for a job. He soon found one as an investigator in the university, which was what he had hoped to become once he had finished his degree. He was happy with his new occupation, and he was enthusiastic about waking up each morning to go to the library and find new things useful for his project. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be offered a job as a professor in the future. Giving History lessons to someone who fancied the subject as much as him should be fantastic.  
He was also happy with all the things he had found out about the city. He would go to the theatre, visit art galleries, and then eat something he had bought on some food stand, get in a typical yellow cab and watch the blinding lights from the commercials as he went by. Or maybe we would go for a walk in Central Park, or just look out his window, because the views of the river from his apartment in Brooklyn were incredible.  
Finally, he liked the people. They were normally very kind and they tried to help him when he stopped them in the street quite shyly. His work mates had treated him really nicely from the very first day, and he already trusted some of them: David, Alyssa, Marc, Carey, Amanda, Chris… The first one was the best of all. On his first week, David convinced Kilian to hang out with the rest and have some beers, and the next day he had taken him hot coffee to compensate the hangover he had given Kilian. That coffee was the best he had ever tried, and he begged David to take him to the place he had bought it, which had resulted to be a cafeteria in the corner of the street he lived in. It suddenly became his favorite place in the entire city. The barista, Layla, was a charming girl with whom David awkwardly flirted.  
It was a rainy Saturday, and Kilian had already finished his work. He closed his laptop and got up from the rigid desk chair, stretching his arms and back, which made a crunch. He looked out the window. He didn’t have anything else to do, and the apartment was getting smaller as time went by, those four walls were shrinking over him. He decided to reward himself with some coffee, and he picked up his jacket.  
Once in the elevator, he arranged his low ponytail and put on the beanie, ready to get out in the cold rain, without an umbrella. He didn’t like umbrellas, he didn’t like them to bend every time the wind blew, and he didn’t like the soreness in his arm from holding that stupid invention for a long time.  
He got to the café almost dry, after all, because he had gone walking close to the walls of the buildings looking for shelter. It was a tiny, cozy place, with a lot of armchairs where people would sit and enjoy their drinks while they read the magazines that were offered to them (Kilian’s favorites were the science ones, because there was always something interesting that amazed him). There was also a little kind of stage for jazz music concerts or poetry recitals: in fact, that afternoon one recital was being held. He asked Layla to make him a black coffee and, once it was made, she handed it to him with a smile from ear to ear. Kilian took a seat near the stage to listen to the poetry while he was reading.  
Nobody really caught his attention, except a man who read way too emotively a sad poem, making everyone laugh, until a redheaded girl with her cheeks matching her hair took the stage.  
Her voice was shy and sweet while she was read a poem about rain, a poem she had dedicated to that grey Saturday. Kilian looked away from the article about stem cells he was reading and looked right at her. He watched her fine lips pronounce carefully each word, tasting them one by one. He looked at her hands as they tucked her red hair behind her ears to prevent them from covering the piece of paper in which she had written the poem, although she didn’t need it. She was just looking at it because she wanted a place to put her eyes in that wasn’t the spectators.  
“Thank you,” she muttered when she finished reading, smiling to the ground, and she jumped off of the stage. When she walked right by him, they stared at each other into the eyes for a second until he looked away, suddenly embarrassed.  
Something urged him to get up and to follow her to her table. She was alone with some Literature books.  
“Excuse me,” he said before she had sat down. The girl turned around and looked at him. She was curious. “The… The poem you have read,” he stuttered, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again, “was it yours?”  
The girl laughed, and her laughter became that song Kilian had never been able to stop listening to the first time he fell in love. She laughed, but it wasn’t a cruel laughter, she wasn’t having fun. It was that kind of laughter someone snaps out when they are congratulated for something they haven’t done, a modest laughter. Then, she shook her head.  
“No, it’s Cummings. But I’m glad you liked it,” she smiled, finally sitting down.  
Kilian wasn’t willing to let the conversation die.  
“So, you like poetry, don’t you?” he said. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to say in that moment. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say when she would want to end the conversation because she didn’t want anyone to interrupt her afternoon.  
“You don’t want to go there, believe me,” the redhead smiled, focusing on the page she had stopped in before going on stage. But she realized immediately that maybe it wasn’t that bad to talk a little more with that guy instead of keep on reading. She already had plenty of time for that. Her hands went through her read hair and then she looked up in the eyes of the boy that had liked her favorite poem so much that he had followed her to her table. “I love it. When I was a child, my mum used to read poems to me instead of tales.”  
She suggested him to sit down. She was willing to have a conversation with him. He obeyed while he tried not to lose any of the words that her lips pronounced.  
“Do you also write?” he asked after he had listened patiently to all she had to say about literature in general and poetry in particular.  
She laughed again, and this time she was slightly sarcastic.  
“Yes, but it’s not as if I’m any good at it or something.”  
“I’m sure it isn’t that bad” he told her with a smile, and she smiled back.  
At the end of the afternoon, Kilian had made another friend in the huge city of New York.


End file.
